


The Virgin Suicide

by Apocalyptic_lipstick



Category: Arctic Monkeys, Last Shadow Puppets
Genre: Ambiguous unresolved ending, I'm so sorry, M/M, Suicide, This is basically the story of The Virgin Suicides retold with Miles and Alex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 12:12:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12507144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apocalyptic_lipstick/pseuds/Apocalyptic_lipstick
Summary: There were at least two possible endings to this story. He didn't know which one he chose at the time. He doubted if it was his to be chosen. He doubted if it'd matter.Miles Kane reflected upon his memories of the quiet neighbourhood boy, Alex Turner.





	The Virgin Suicide

There were at least two possible endings to this story. He didn't know which one he chose at the time. He doubted if it was his to be chosen. He doubted if it'd matter.

At the beginning, he would only have heard of him. Alex Turner, the quiet boy who lived next door. No further details were given, only occasional melody (Piano? Electronic keyboard? He couldn't tell the difference) that whistled softly at night with the light on the far-right bedroom (He supposed that was his room). He never saw him during the day, except for once, at the city centre, he was walking with his mother and she pointed out, as mums do, "Look, that's the boy that lives next to us!" He looked over and caught a glimpse of a small-framed adolescence with brunet hair walking past with a tattered guitar case. He didn't see his face but remembered that the skin that peeked between the collar of his wrinkled white oxford and the messy mob of brown hair was rather pale. He thought briefly about calling him over and asked him about the guitar, as teens do when they have shared interests. But he didn't. He didn't know why he didn't. Maybe because the sun was too bright that day. Maybe it's the record he just bought that was begging him to get this shopping trip over with. Maybe it's Siobhan Linson's text that he's been crafting the response to. But in the end, they continued their way and he said, "Yeah, that Alex. He's alright"

He wouldn't tell it to anyone, not because he's embarrassed but rather because there was never the occasion, but he really liked the music Alex played at night. They were soft and sweet but somehow always tinged with something deeply unsettling. He figured it was the same teenage angst he was going through; uncertainty about the future, heartbreaks, pining over someone he felt he should, finding his place in the world, school works, the usuals. With that, he figured Alex Turner would be an alright guy. No dickhead would be able to produce this kind of music, probably.

But some nights, there would be no music. On those nights, he would look over at the darkened room, like a Pavlov's dog waiting for the bell to ring. But on those nights, the bell didn't ring, and he went to bed wondering if he should have called Alex. But he wouldn't know what to say.

_"Hey Alex, it's Miles from next door. I'm not a creep, I swear, but I listen to you playing the piano every night and I’m kinda addicted to hearing it now so I’m wondering why you're not playing tonight?"_

_Totally not a creep,_ he thought, _Totally a normal friendly neighbour thing._

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------

 

The first time he actually saw Alex Turner was on a Thursday evening. He was about to walk inside the house when he heard the sound of clinging metals dropped on the wet cement pavement. He turned, and saw Alex, with a pair of black headphones, picking up the keys and fumbling over his ipod, not noticing him.

"Hey," He said with a little wave. But Alex didn't look up. He could hear a blast of heavy bass coming from the headphones. He tried again.

"Hi," He stepped closer and bent his knees a bit to meet Alex's eyes that were decisively towards the direction of the ground. Large, deep brown eyes blinked in surprise at him. He thought he looked like the very personification of a deer caught in the headlights.

“Hello” Alex’s voice was barely above the wind.

“Alex, right? I’m Miles,” He smiled, trying to seem the least imposing. Somehow, he felt like he’s approaching a small animal in the wild, “I heard you play every night”

“Oh,” Alex said, dejectedly, “I’m sorry if it bothers you…”

“No, not at all!” He quickly interjected, “I rather like it. You play beautifully” 

Alex went quiet, his face unreadable.

“I mean it. I’m not taking the mick” He said, reassuringly, “The way you play…it was something…like a part of the night” He mentally kicked himself at the last part for sounding creepy, but Alex seemed to accept it and his face softened.

“Oh,” Alex said, followed by the even softer, “Thank you”

That night, the music played a little longer than usual. At the end of the last song, he saw Alex peeked between the curtains of his room. He waved to him and Alex waved back.

 

After that, the story began.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the movie, The Virgin Suicides, this is not going to be a happy one :(  
> Also, this might actually be the first multi-chapter story I finish


End file.
